The first sign something was wrong came quietly.
Aiven noticed it during the lunch rush.
The café door opened and closed like always, the bell chiming softly, steam curling from coffee machines, sunlight spilling across the counter. But there was a man seated by the window who hadn't ordered anything in over an hour. His phone stayed face down. His eyes, however, didn't.
They followed Aiven.
Draven noticed too.
He shifted closer to the counter, posture alert, jaw tight. He didn't like patterns. And this—this was a pattern.
"Table by the window," Draven murmured when Aiven passed him a plate. "Third time this week."
Aiven's hand paused for just a second. "Maybe he just likes the view."
Draven didn't respond.
He watched the man stand, walk out, and immediately type something into his phone.
That evening, Draven's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He stepped into the stairwell before answering. "Yes?"
Velric's voice slid through the line, smooth and deliberate. "Draven. I was wondering when you'd pick up."
Draven's grip tightened. "You shouldn't be calling me."
"And you shouldn't be hovering around a civilian every day," Velric replied calmly. "But here we are."
Silence stretched.
Velric continued, "You're blurring lines. That café is becoming a liability."
Draven swallowed. "Aiven isn't part of the company."
Velric chuckled softly. "Not officially."
The word lingered like a threat.
"I suggest," Velric went on, "that you remember where your loyalty lies. ECLYPSE is entering a sensitive phase. Any distraction—any rumor—could be… unfortunate."
Draven's voice hardened. "If this is about Zenith—"
"This is about control," Velric cut in. "And about you forgetting your place."
The line went dead.
Draven stayed there for a long moment, chest tight, pulse loud in his ears.
Back at the dorm, Zenith paced.
Raze sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, watching him wear a path into the floor. "He contacted you."
It wasn't a question.
Zenith nodded once. "He's tightening the leash."
Raze exhaled slowly. "About us?"
"About everyone," Zenith replied. "But mostly about Draven and Aiven."
That made Raze look up sharply. "Why them?"
Zenith stopped pacing. "Because they're the easiest pressure point."
The room felt smaller after that.
The next day, the company announced extended rehearsals.
Longer hours. No outside engagements. Dorm-only curfew.
Velric framed it as dedication.
The members heard control.
Aiven found out the hard way.
Two men in company badges walked into the café just before closing time. They were polite. Smiling. Professional.
Too professional.
"We're here regarding a potential contract violation," one of them said.
Aiven blinked. "I don't work for—"
"This concerns Draven," the other interrupted gently.
Aiven's heart dropped.
Draven arrived ten minutes later, breathless, eyes dark with fury.
"You don't get to come here," Draven snapped, standing between them and Aiven.
One of the men raised his hands placatingly. "We're just doing our job."
Draven leaned closer. "Then do it somewhere else."
The men exchanged a look.
"We'll report that the situation is… ongoing," one said before they left.
The café felt cold after that.
Aiven sat behind the counter, hands shaking. "They were polite. That scares me more."
Draven crouched in front of him. "I won't let them touch you."
Aiven met his eyes. "You can't protect me from a company that big."
Draven didn't answer.
Because he knew it was true.
That night, Zenith stared at the ceiling in his dorm room, phone clenched in his hand.
He typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Finally, he sent a message to Draven.
Zenith:
If he hurts Aiven, I won't stay quiet.
Draven replied almost instantly.
Draven:
That's what he wants.
Zenith closed his eyes.
Raze watched him from the other bed. "We're running out of time, aren't we?"
Zenith nodded slowly. "He's forcing us to choose."
"And?"
Zenith turned his head, eyes dark but steady. "I already chose."
Elsewhere, Velric reviewed reports.
Photos of Aiven entering the café early. Draven walking him home. Zenith lingering too long during breaks. Raze watching too closely.
Connections.
Weaknesses.
Velric smiled thinly.
Pressure didn't break people immediately.
It cracked them slowly—until they broke themselves.